Septifiria; The Becoming

Chapter 7

   "Septi," Mes said, her voice hovering on the edge of Septi's consciousness. "Septi, are you in there?" Something small hit her face and Septi blinked. She shook her head, trying to shake the clouds of thoughtlessness off.

   "Wha-?" she asked, extremely confused. "She suddenly realized that Mes was staring at her worriedly. They were in the Rec room and the entirety of the surviving VI4C was sitting there, staring at her. Some of them were nursing cuts, bruises and the like, while others were bandaging up their comrades.

   "You called us here for a meeting. What about?" Mes asked pointedly.

   "Oracle is dead, and he chose me as your new commander. I am also aware that arrangements need to be made to bury our dead. Please, search the hideout for the deceased and move them to the office. Steppe's office." Dimly Septi was aware that Steppe's office was actually her office, and also that not everyone gathered there seemed entirely thrilled about her being the commander.

   "Look at her... she's so sickly looking..."

   "She seems to be rather weak after what Steppe did to her..."

   "She can't be entirely sane. Not after everything Steppe did-" Murmurs like this filled the room. The one brave boy piped up, and in a heavy Texan accent, he spoke.

    "What good'll she do? She don't look too good to me." Septi stared at him tiredly. The bright, white lights threw everything into sharp contrast, making the boy's already brilliantly orange hair glare against his pale skin.

   "Do you have a problem with that?" Raram asked him, her voice slightly threatening. She gave him the filthiest glare she could muster, and he shrugged. Septi, however, continued to stare at him.

   "Stand up," she ordered, her voice betraying her exhaustion. He hesitated and she allowed one of her daggers to slip into her hand. "Now," she added, a grim look on her face. He stood up, and must have replied, because no one else did.

   "Yes ma'am," his voice came mockingly from the plant beside her.

   "Name?" Septi asked, trying not to show her surprise as she sheathed her dagger.

   "Chaos." This time his voice came from the couch she was leaning against.

Oh, that's right. Septi's thoughts were sharper now, but they were still distant. I heard about him. He came to be with Dr. H... I think they're related somehow.... distantly.

   "So, Chaos, you don't think that I'm qualified to lead the VI4C?" Septi asked, knowing that she couldn't fight him, not in the state that she was in, but she knew that she had to shut him up before his ideas affected the whole crowd.

   "That's about right," the boy's voice was now coming from the fireplace. "You look like you couldn't even lead one person without passing out."

   "So you don't like me because I look sick?" Septi asked, still staring at him. "Appearances can be deceiving." Chaos tilted his head and crossed his arms. Septi finally looked away from him, staring at the rest of the crowd. "And what about you all? Am I unfit to be commander?" A few of the members squirmed, but no one said anything.

   "What do you think?" Mes asked, standing up. "I know that we have no better person for the job, not after the fight. I also think that you're a sexist prat, Chaos, and you'd better shut up before I have to take you down myself."

   "Whoa, where'd sexist come from?" he muttered, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at her.

   "Thanks, Mes," Septi said, running a hand over her face, fighting the urge to yawn. She hadn't slept much in the last twenty-four hours, and her body was finally paying the price. "Now then, we need to take care of the dead and the wounded." Septi glanced around. "And those of you who can will need to carry the bodies to the office. I will also need someone to take note of the dead as they're brought in, for the record."